The Admiral's Journey
by Jacqueline DeMortel
Summary: As the Admiral sits alone in a tiny boat, he reflects on past occurrences. Contains major spoilers for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, as this plot relies directly upon one of AWE's many twists.


**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any characters, ships, songs, or rum from Pirates of the Caribbean. Also, I do not own the song at the beginning, although I can't find who wrote the original lyrics. Savvy?  
**

* * *

_Yo, ho  
Haul together  
Hoist the colors high  
Heave, ho  
Thieves and beggars  
Never shall we_ _--_

"Do you fear death?"

The admiral's sight faded black at the edges. He looked up at the demon face in front of him, then focused all his strength into thrusting his sword into Davy Jones's heart -- or where it had once resided. He then fell back, his last act completed. Sounds blurred into sight into darkness as he heard the waves crashing with the last words he would ever hear alive.

"I'll take that as a no."

It was not like waking up, not like that obvious breach of barrier between sleep and wakefulness, but rather it felt, to Admiral James Norrington, as if he had always been "awake." He found himself alone in a boat, drifting along the water smooth as glass. Other lanterns joined his in the darkness, but he had no interest in them. Something seemed familiar, as if... as if he had missed something. He thought back, but it was difficult, for he did not know what he was trying to remember, or if there was indeed anything to remember.

_There was a ship... _Yes, he remembered a ship, or he thought he remembered a ship. With his current situation, he wasn't sure he wasn't simply transferring present to memory. But no, there was a ship, far larger than the boat he now occupied. And there were lights, just a few, in a window...

James rubbed his eyes and looked down at himself. So far his memories, if they were such, agreed with his attire, or perhaps the other way around. The glint of the edge of his scabbard caught his eye. _There was a sword... _But it was no longer there.

He looked up again. Was there a battle? He thought so, but couldn't be sure. He watched the other boats with their placid "captains" as they shifted and rearranged, everything in slow motion, but always moving forward. A man further ahead looked familiar from behind. There was a large wig upon his head, and James felt he had seen it before...

As much as he could not remember, it oddly did not disturb him. Curiosity was all that drove his search for answers, and if he didn't find them, they must not have mattered.

_Still, there was a sword... _He felt that point was important. A sword and... fish? There was a stench of fish, but that could have been from the sea. No, closer, in front of him... _Stabbing... Davy Jones! _

He shuddered, remembering that face. But the moment passed. _Was that... life? There was a change, before that... Something happened, someone..._

Trying to remember, he again focused on the wig. Somehow it was important, or perhaps merely interesting? _There were ropes, and an alarm... But who was escaping? _There was no face to match with the memory, only darkness, only blank shouts and feelings. _Feelings... There was pity, yes, and humility... But also pride, and redemption, courage and fear..._

James wondered for a moment if there was a destination. There was nothing to see ahead but lanterns, endless rows of light reflecting off the small waves in the water. It didn't matter. He was here, now, and that was fine.

_There was a feeling of love..._

This caught his interest, as much as anything could. He felt a brief pang in his heart, and couldn't remember it in the next moment. Yes, there was love. His, or someone else's? He couldn't be sure. _A... kiss? Or imagined? _He thought he remembered silk against his lips, or perhaps it was the wind...

_She had a name..._

The wig again caught his attention.

_...Elizabeth._

It was odd, to know that he had once apparently held such great emotion for her, or so he thought he remembered, but now he could barely see her face, barely hear her voice, barely feel her touch.

_She had forgiven me..._

Yes, that was the point of the memories, then. Nothing else mattered. His sins had been forgiven, and he had no wish to know what they had been.

James Norrington smiled and leaned back slightly. Indeed, perhaps his journey had been his destination.


End file.
